


Snow

by orphan_account



Category: Booster Gold - Fandom, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Blood, Coersion, Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Mystery, No Context, Suicide, Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michelle winds up nearly frozen under mysterious circumstances.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow

When Michelle woke up, her body was contorted; her eyes horrifically unfocused. A leg twisted, perched on an oaken branch from which her crimson liquid drizzled in a weak, harrowing stream down to the frigid snow. And across her chest, speckled with blood, it must have been a bag. She stretched to reach it with beaten, lacquered digits. Her memories of incoming death insulted her. 

With blue eyes, she squinted. Her view was obscured by the snowflakes that fell to kiss her dirt-wiped face. And as she lifted herself from the branch, her bloody leg dripping as daylight’s unforgiving face shone into her flesh, levitating her body came too difficultly.

Her stomach seemed to crumble like wet sand beneath her frost-bitten flesh. Wisps of faint darkness wavered before her blue eyes. She strained, her trembling hands extended into the chill, brisk tendrils of wind, in a futile attempt to activate her gauntlets and fly herself away from where she lay with an injury. She could manage raising maybe an inch above her branch. Two. And still, pain rocketed red-hot through her bloody calf. 

Her lips mashed in discontent. She lowered herself to the branch again with and watched her mysterious bag slink to the ivory hills of frost. There must have been something metal inside of it, because when her wrist twitched to bring it toward her, a golden haze circled around it. It was nearly imperceptible to Michelle. She supposed that to anyone else, it might have been obvious. 

She clutched the bag to her thighs and pried it open in search of a rope; a tool; maybe even a  _manual_  - but of course the  _latter_ would be out of the question. Her hands shivered and her lips began to turn solid. Kidnappers liked to play with their victims. On her first visit to the 21st century, she’d gotten a taste of this generation’s serial killers. If you prefer an elaboration,  _Saw II_ had just come out, which was when Shel learned that it wasn’t a requirement for a film to be entertaining as long as it provided information. 

In the far distance, a building pressed closer from its veil behind a thick range of mountains. The image on the slim hardcover book in her pre-packed bag (she never figured she’d be  _wrong_  about serial killers) was printed in raised gold and identical to the structure before her. Her neck clucked in a terse gesture, blue eyes slightly jaded and scanning the words below it.  _"An Academy; would you look at that?"_

The first few pages were filled to their ends with a welcome message much longer than was necessary when her frost-nibbled fingers leafed through it. Snowflakes dampened the obsidian letters, causing her eyes to strain to read through it. Just more nonsense. None of it told her how to get  _out_ of this tree; just what she’d have to do once she finally did. Floor Three, up the stairs, on the left - and she had roommates. She could tell they were room _mates_ because it was plural, but she couldn’t quite convince herself that that experience was going to be as amazing as the author attempted to insist. They were  _aged three_.

With careful fingers, Michelle finally found herself flipping across page 64 - Dying and Resurrection, which, of course, was openly advertised in the most jolly of letters. Her eyes squinted further as they studied each mocking sentence, because their intentions were starting to dawn on her. It was insane, what she was being expected to do. 

 _'Kill yourself upon being injured. That's right: kill yourself. Or suffer days of agony; your choice. You'll only be sent to the infimary.'_  
  
Michelle forced her gaze to her hurt calf, bleeding; throbbing steadily. As if on menacing cue, its agony intensified, and she closed the manual with trembling fingers. Her thoughts seemed to chide her.  _'This. Is so. Stupid, Shel.'_  But, really, what other choice was she given?  __  


She kicked the strange white bag over the side of her branch with her uninjured leg. She felt her back straighten, much to her courage’s dismay. What was more stupid - suffering until her body shut down, or ending it now to get it healed sooner?   
  
Her eyes eased shut. Something of a  twitch worked its way onto her lips, which were paling, now; blue in the cold. Her bag slunk down to the snow first; her mutilated, freezing body following after it in a heap of tattered flesh. Her world jolted into the throes of ominous torment.

But it was only for an instant.


End file.
